16 days with family in La Gomera (Canary Islands)
FR

Translated into English.

Original post
PA
Preamble: Why La Gomera?

When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”

This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...

Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.

Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!

La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory. The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.

La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.

Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.

Some practical info: - The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side. - We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €. - The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen. - Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day. - Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.

Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!



And we start the trip with music!

We start the trip with music!
MU Muriel18 Globetrotter ·
Hi Pagal

After Gran Canaria, I told myself, "No more Canary Islands! ...unless maybe La Palma or La Gomera if we don’t have a better destination idea for early spring."

So, I’m off to La Gomera! 😎
Si tu diffères de moi, mon frère, loin de me léser, tu m'enrichis (Saint Exupéry)
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
And we're off for an in-depth exploration of La Gomera! 🙂
Édifices religieux : concours de photos amical d'août 2026 Rubrique Jeux Voyages C'est le moment de poster vos meilleurs clichés !
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Come on up, you all whose mixed experiences in the Canary archipelago I’ve been following! This is La Gomera, where few people venture, so there’s still plenty of space.

Attila, I can’t hide anything from you—this will indeed be an exhaustive discovery, and probably a bit *exhausting* in the English sense, just like La Gomera: rugged, steep, wild, but absolutely worth the effort 😄
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Day 1, Tuesday, July 28: From Paris to Valle Gran Rey

After a short night, the long-awaited day has finally arrived! We’re up very early because our Paris-Tenerife flight takes off at 10 AM. We’d planned to take the metro—super convenient since it now serves our Parisian suburb and Line 14 was extended all the way to Orly Airport. But we got a nasty surprise the night before: our transit passes no longer give us a discount on the premium airport fares. That’s 14 € per person, which we think is outrageous! So, we did the math quickly: an Uber costs 32 € for all four of us, and we won’t have to lug our bags. At Orly, everything goes smoothly. Transavia is super efficient, and we take off on time. Off we go for a 4-hour flight to the famous Atlantic archipelago.

I’m traveling separately from Magali and the kids to avoid another seat-selection fee. The clear, sunny weather lets me admire the Nantes coastline, Île de Ré, and Île d’Oléron from the window. A little later, after crossing the Bay of Biscay, I spot the parched lands of Galicia, Portugal, and Lisbon before we head back over the Atlantic, far from the Moroccan coast. Then, out of nowhere, like a mirage on the sea, the majestic Teide appears, encircled by clouds and its rugged coastline carved into the rock. Landing on Tenerife is quite the sight!

We’re on time, and if our suitcase doesn’t take too long to arrive, we can catch the 2 PM bus 40 to Los Cristianos, where the ferries to the western islands depart. The suspense ends quickly—our suitcase shows up on the conveyor belt right away. We’re really happy with Transavia on this flight: affordable prices, great organization, punctuality, and friendly but strict staff when it comes to safety. We rush out of the small Tenerife South Airport. The bus stops are right across from the exit, and with almost no wait, we hop on the number 40 (3.20 € per person, free for our 4-year-old). Half an hour later, watching the concrete buildings, red and rocky landscapes, banana trees, cacti, and billboards roll by—with the Teide always in the background—the bus drops us off at a roundabout in a somewhat artificial-looking modern neighborhood. We’ve got a relaxed 20-minute walk ahead under a bright, gentle sun, through vacation resorts, a small center packed with restaurants and tourist shops, and the beach of Los Cristianos, covered in sunbeds and packed to the brim. We finally reach the ferry terminal. Our ferry leaves at 3:30 PM, and since we’re half an hour early, we stop at Casa Playa Tenerife, a big beachside bar-restaurant where international tourists (mostly Germans) and girls in string bikinis with everything on display parade by. It’s clear that presentation is everything here. The sight of this industrial beach in such a stunning natural setting feels like a real shame… and it confirms our choice to head to La Gomera.

We hurry the friendly but slow-moving servers since our order is taking forever, and time’s running out. We just manage to enjoy a nice, cold Dorada (the iconic Canary Islands beer) and a peach juice for the kids before we have to head to the nearby ferry terminal. We scan our e-tickets and board the *Pepita Castellvi*, a massive ferry from Baleària Canarias (which recently bought Naviera Armas), one of the two historic companies connecting the eight Canary Islands. We weren’t expecting such a beast! And yet, it’s almost empty—about 80% of the seats are free. Probably not peak time: lots of tourists visit La Gomera on day trips from Tenerife and likely take the morning ferries. The inside is super comfortable, with an affordable bar-restaurant, a play area for kids, and even the option to stay on deck. Minutes after departure, we spot dolphins jumping right by our window! I’d read that you can easily see them on this stretch between Tenerife and La Gomera, along with whales, but we didn’t expect to see them so soon. For us, who are planning a whale-watching excursion, this is a great sign. We end up spending most of the trip on deck, where the wind and the powerful waves the boat kicks up behind it make for a perfect attraction for the kids. With the Teide now fading behind us, the Gomeran shore starts to take shape in the distance. Finally, we see the port of San Sebastián de la Gomera, the island’s capital, watched over by a small statue of Christ the Redeemer atop one of the cliffs overlooking it.

The ship docks, and we rush to the Cicar agency—the most popular in the Canaries (thanks, Attila and Muriel18!), probably because it’s the cheapest and has the best terms. Paperwork done in five minutes, a 40 € deposit paid, and we’re handed the keys to a red Opel Corsa in the parking lot. Nice surprise: they told us the tank was three-quarters full, but it’s actually completely full—bonus! Magali takes the wheel since she’s an experienced driver, and declaring just one driver saves us money. Off we go to Valle Gran Rey, on the far western side of the island, where our Airbnb is waiting. The destination is 25 kilometers as the crow flies, which makes it seem like a half-hour trip. But this is La Gomera—so it’s 50 kilometers of winding roads avoiding the most mountainous part, meaning a 1 hour 15-minute drive. There are two routes that take about the same time. Of course, we take a wrong turn at a poorly marked fork in a hairpin bend and end up taking the northern coastal route. No big deal—it only adds about 20 minutes and gives us our first taste of La Gomera’s incredible variety of landscapes.

We wind our way upward between the massive ridges, instantly struck by the beauty of these dry, rocky, terracotta-toned landscapes, the result of ancient volcanic activity. They’re covered in terraced fields and dotted with palm trees, banana trees, aloe vera, prickly pears, and more, surrounding us on all sides. Toward the north of the island, the roads get narrower and twistier, sometimes dizzyingly so, with one tight hairpin bend after another. You’ve got to have a strong stomach! The kids start feeling queasy, and they’re not the only ones… But the breathtaking scenery helps take the edge off, especially the viewpoints lining the road, offering jaw-dropping views of the deep valleys. We’re already amazed by this preview of La Gomera from the safety of our Opel Corsa—Magali thinks it’s perfect for these kinds of roads. We catch glimpses of places we’d imagined during our trip planning and will visit in the coming days: the lush Hermigua Valley with its plunging sea views, the village of Agulo between cliffs and ocean, and even a small part of Garajonay National Park. We get stuck for a few minutes when we encounter our first real Gomeros, clearing branches from the road. It’s a surprise to see signs of life—we’ve been driving for a while without passing anyone. There’s something warm and welcoming about these stocky, sun-weathered road workers, who signal us to wait and wave as we pass. Then the road finally starts to descend, and from a high viewpoint, we spot a valley nestled between two massive mountain slopes, revealing a wide stretch of ocean on the horizon: our destination, Valle Gran Rey. The view from above is just as stunning as the one in Hermigua.

Now we’re looking for our lodging in the small village of La Calera, which, though further down, still overlooks the coast. Actually, Valle Gran Rey isn’t a single town but a collection of coastal and mountain villages clustered in the valley. La Calera is one of them. It seems perfectly situated—not too deep in the mountains, not right by the ocean, with an amazing view and just a 20-minute walk to the shore. Valle Gran Rey is, along with San Sebastián de la Gomera, the most touristy spot on the island—but that’s relative, since La Gomera is still a hidden gem. La Calera feels like an authentic village, mostly home to native Gomeros, though it’s also quite popular with Germans. They’re big fans of La Gomera, especially Valle Gran Rey—so much so that many have invested in properties or vacation homes here, and German has become the island’s unofficial second language. Coincidentally, our Airbnb is owned by a German, and we struggle to find it despite the precise location from Airbnb. Magali parks the car on the village’s main street since the house is in one of the many *callejónes* clinging to the mountainside—more like steep footpaths than proper alleys.

We finally run into a man sipping a beer on a low wall, who we mistake for a Gomero because he looks just like the road workers we met earlier. He hears us talking and approaches in perfect French. Turns out he’s Belgian but seems to know the village like the back of his hand. He easily points us to our lodging, the aptly named *Buena Vista*, which is even higher up than we thought. We’d searched in vain in the neighboring path, but it was actually the next one—both have the same name, probably because they meet higher up. You’d have to know! The stone steps, uneven and winding through prickly pears, mango trees, and banana plants growing like weeds, lead past houses stacked in terraces like the surrounding fields. The climb is tough, especially after such a long day with a 20-kilo suitcase. We reach a metal walkway—without it, a crevice would block access to the house… and there we are. We didn’t think our first hike would be so soon: La Gomera is full immersion from the get-go!

Our German landlord’s German neighbor welcomes us warmly but discreetly. It’s a lovely vacation home with everything we need: a big living room-kitchen, a terrace with a stunning view of the mountains and sea, two upstairs bedrooms, a bathroom, and a balcony above the terrace. We’ll stay here for seven days before moving to Hermigua for the second week.

After unpacking and taking much-needed showers, we head to the village grocery store, just a two- or three-minute walk away, to stock up for the evening. *El Chorro* seems to be the main social hub of La Calera, with locals hanging out like it’s a bar, beers in hand, chatting with the owner on the doorstep. We’re surprised to see our Belgian friend there, laughing and chatting in Spanish with a few villagers. The guy seems to have fully blended into the scenery, physically and culturally transformed into a true Gomero! We pick up some Spanish and local products to get into the spirit. Prices are a bit high, but the owner is super welcoming, and we’ve got what we need for tonight and the start of our stay.

I get cooking and whip up a homemade Canarian garbanza with local ingredients, which we enjoy on the terrace with pasta and some improvised tapas—chorizo, squid in sauce, and the obligatory cold Dorada. The sun casts its last rays over the valley as it slowly sinks behind the ocean. Everything is peaceful, the weather is mild, and there’s almost no noise—just the occasional sound of a car passing on the main road far below. We couldn’t have made a better choice.

That evening, I start to take an interest in the colossal mountainside facing our lodging, giving the valley its vast, open feel. This monumental volcanic formation, with its mix of brick red, anthracite, and sparse green vegetation, looms over our terrace like a giant shadow stretching from the mountainous interior to the coast. It feels like a wave frozen mid-crash, about to engulf the village. Night falls, turning it into a dark, imposing mass, amplifying the sense of immensity and impending submersion. At the same time, strange noises—like cats fighting—echo through the valley… It catches my attention for a moment, but it doesn’t matter. After 13 hours of nonstop travel—Uber, plane, bus, ferry, and car—it’s time for some well-earned rest before we start exploring the area tomorrow.
DJ Djalma Globetrotter ·
Hello, Awesome! Just reading a bit has made me want to go there at the end of September Flights with easyJet are convenient and cheap... there are plenty of available accommodations. The north doesn’t seem too arid, and we really like the vegetation... Could you confirm if we can hike freely without needing to pay entry fees on the marked trails that everyone uses?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XCOyB7WStI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2eI67iCbKY
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Hey Djalma,

I can only recommend you go to La Gomera—I’m sure you’ll love it. I can confirm that loads of holiday rentals are vacant, that the north and center are really green, cooler, and more humid (especially Hermigua Valley and Garajonay Natural Park), and that you can wander absolutely freely and often alone on the island’s 600 kilometers of trails.

Unlike other Canary Islands, La Gomera is a place where you don’t pay for nature, culture, or parking. Even the small museums or explanatory workshops are often free or at worst ridiculously cheap.

I encourage you to check out this super detailed travel journal, as Attila guessed—after that, you’ll know everything!
DJ Djalma Globetrotter ·
Unlike other Canary Islands, La Gomera is a place where you don’t pay for nature, culture, or parking. Even the small museums or explanatory workshops are often free or at worst ridiculously cheap.

Thanks for the info. Actually, it’s not about the budget but for other reasons... Parking and museums aren’t an issue. But nature that’s more or less developed—parks with fences and entry tickets like in Tenerife or elsewhere—I’m not into that. I’ll go ahead and book my flight right away. Thanks again.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XCOyB7WStI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2eI67iCbKY
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Day 2, Wednesday, July 29: Valle Gran Rey/La Calera: Charco del Conde, La Calera beach, El Guro, waterfall trails of Arure

After a good night’s recovery, the gentle morning sun invites us to have breakfast on the terrace. From the balcony of the rooms above the terrace, I’m still staring at that mountain, just as intriguing in broad daylight. Its wall is so steep that the sun doesn’t fully rise above it until around 10 a.m.

With its large, rounded plateau at the top and its slopes ending in frozen lava tentacles, its giant octopus vibe reminds me of a Lovecraftian deity. Yes, that’s it—a Cthulhu made of volcanic rock! To kick off our stay right, we walk down to La Calera toward one of Valle Gran Rey’s beaches. We’re not sure which one to pick, so we take a slightly random route. Either way, we have to cross the village, and after passing the main street above the terraced fields, the grocery store from the day before, and the main road into the valley, we get a little lost in its charming alleys.

Though we still barely run into anyone (Canarians tend to be late risers), we notice the village is very much alive with its school, small government offices, language classes, colorful houses—some a bit run-down—with exotic gardens or nestled into the rock, sometimes decorated with quirky contemporary art.

The lower part of La Calera, near the main road, is a bit livelier, like this bar where the village men (and sometimes women) are already enjoying Dorada beers with bocadillos to soak it all up, carefree in this mild, peaceful climate. La pura vida! There are a few vacation homes here and there, but the village remains mostly authentic. Large banana plantations, mango fields, and other fruit trees stretch out as you leave the village center, right near the seafront.

The Canary Islands are famous for their charcos (literally “puddles”), known as “natural pools”—basins formed by rocks that trap seawater at high tide, more or less sheltered from the currents. La Gomera isn’t the best for natural pools, but it does have a few, including the charco del Conde, which is apparently nearby. We’re curious to see what it looks like, even though we’ve heard some are dangerous and have been closed by authorities. First, we walk along La Calera beach and its narrow strip of black sand, then a little seaside path shaded by palm trees that feels a bit like Cuba (which I’ve never been to—just a cliché, I guess). Here, you’ll find the only hotel area in the seaside resort, quite discreet, and a few boat excursion agencies that aren’t open yet—or are permanently closed. All the signs are in Spanish and German. At the end of the path, on a small patch of black-sand beach with a few umbrellas, we finally spot the charco del Conde. It’s a small stagnant pool separated from the ocean by a thin strip of rocks. Doesn’t look too dangerous… Oh, there are very few people here, but they’re all French. We rush to dip our feet in. The bottom is rocky, and the water doesn’t go past my knees. It’s fun for Théo with his armbands, and the setting is unique, but after 10 minutes, we’ve seen it all. I wonder if these natural pools aren’t a bit overrated… How about finding a real beach? There’s one right next to the charco, made of pebbles and rocks where big waves crash. No one’s there, and a sign advises against swimming… So we head back toward La Calera beach, which looked great. On the way, we stop for a moment in front of that intriguing statue of a muscular man in a tiny loincloth facing the ocean, which we’d seen earlier. The site La Gomera Travel, our bible throughout the trip, tells us it’s Hautacuperche (“Blessed by the Gods” in Guanche Berber), the emblematic hero of the Guanches who led the Gomeros’ revolt in 1488 against Spanish colonists after Governor Hernán Peraza the Younger betrayed the peace and coexistence treaties signed by his more tolerant father. This beautiful 4-meter bronze statue depicts the warrior holding a spear in his left hand, symbolizing armed rebellion, and in his right hand, the broken gánigo, signifying the breaking of the Pact of Colactation with the Spaniards—since it’s the clay vessel in which Hernán Peraza the Elder and the Guanche chief shared milk as a sign of brotherhood. Hautacuperche has his back to the sea and faces the Valley of the Great King, a name referencing Hupalupo, the king and spiritual leader of the four Guanche tribes—hence the name Valle Gran Rey. It seems the Gomerans base much of their distinct identity on this heroic figure, who is also a source of pride for their fellow Canarians. We’ll learn more about this fascinating history later…

Near the statue begins the beautiful, narrow stretch of black sand at La Calera beach, where there are still very few people at 11 a.m.—mostly German retirees who are very “mens sana in corpore sano” and into yoga. The time difference with the Spaniards works in our favor throughout our trip: living three hours earlier sometimes makes us feel like we’ve almost privatized the island! The lifeguards have just arrived and put up the green flag. This family-friendly beach is the main one in Valle Gran Rey. It’s lovely—the water is perfect for swimming, calm thanks to the cove that shelters it, allowing you to swim far out while still letting gentle waves lap at the shore, and the temperature is ideal (around 23°C, give or take). The kids already love it, and so do we. Nearby, there’s a small urbanized area with a few restaurants, shops, and vacation homes. This is it—our beach, and we won’t find a better one in all of La Gomera. By noon, the Spaniards start arriving gradually with their umbrellas and sun loungers, but it’s not exactly packed. It becomes a place of social distinction and coexistence through women’s attire: German women often in semi-naturist postures, and Spanish women often in string monokinis—a single outfit, two mindsets in harmony!

We rinse our feet and swimsuits at the beach’s only tap, then head back up to the perched village, through a landscape of abundant banana plantations (which make you want to swipe a few fruits from those well-stocked bunches) and steep slopes where our little village of La Calera clings.

Kelyandre got ahead of us, and we see him 50 meters ahead carrying bags next to an elderly woman. We catch up, and she explains in Spanish that she didn’t understand why this child hadn’t responded to her requests and had just handed him her shopping bags! Now that she realizes we’re French, she warmly thanks us and even gives us some sightseeing tips before heading off down a cute path through fruit plantations. The Gomerans are extremely kind and welcoming—that’s a fact.

Our Belgian friend is still glued to the entrance of El Chorro grocery store, greeting us with a beer in hand alongside the village regulars. We’ll notice that in La Gomera’s villages, there are always a few locals who are a bit marginal, often with disabilities, but always friendly. It’s not a judgment—just an observation. The island is isolated and sparsely populated…

We just stop for a quick shower and rush back down by car to La Calera beach, where we’ve spotted a highly rated restaurant, Mango, serving Canarian cuisine and a few exotic specialties. It’s on a small square by the sea where tourists and a few hippie drifters selling shell necklaces and handmade crafts mingle. Magali is thrilled with her mixed mango salad, and Kelyandre loves his grilled chicken escalope. I’m a bit less impressed with my shrimp curry rice (though it’s actually very good—I was expecting something like paella), and we share a gargantuan plate of fried squid and fries, way too much for Théo. Prices are a bit cheaper than in France, especially since portions are bigger, and the restaurant’s beachfront location is a plus. Like most Canarian restaurants, the waitress brings us the famous pan y mojo right away—bread with those two slightly spicy green and red sauces, almost always served automatically (you can refuse) and usually charged 1.5 or 2 €. A great spot, anyway.

After an essential siesta, we continue our cultural exploration with a visit to the Spar. It’s the most widespread and cheapest supermarket chain in La Gomera. There are two in Valle Gran Rey, and since the one by La Calera beach is closed for inventory, we head to the one by Las Vueltas beach, on the other side of the seaside resort, which seems a tad more upscale, though we still see some worn-out hippie drifters digging through the trash. Spar prices are still gentler than the grocery store’s, and there’s way more choice. We stock up on local products: sweet potatoes, papaya, and those tiny local bananas that look like they were plucked straight from the plantation across the way. And of course, a bag of gofio, that roasted grain flour mix used in pretty much everything in the Canary Islands. A French guy with a slightly unhinged look and clearly misaligned chakras but very friendly jumps on us, explaining in a mix of French and Spanish—like someone searching for words in their native language after a long stay abroad—that we’d be better off buying them from the organic gardens near the bus estación. Thanks, man, that’s cooool!
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Early in the evening, we’re still not hungry at all, and Magali really fancies a little hike while it’s still light out. She’s spotted one near the neighboring hamlet, just a kilometer above La Calera, El Guro. The site La Gomera Travel also tells me there’s a short walk through the terraced gardens that fill the middle of the valley. So we take the car, park in El Guro five minutes later, and look for the trail. They’re usually well-marked on La Gomera, and Magali finds one we start even though I’m not convinced it’s the one we’re looking for. It begins on a small path climbing toward the northern cliff. We cross a strange little neighborhood in the middle of nature, seemingly completely deserted as we pass, made up of houses and surreal artworks partly crafted from natural elements of La Gomera. The names on the mailboxes and naturopathy signs leave no doubt: it’s a German hippie enclave! Totally unexpected in this somewhat wild spot.

The path is discreetly marked and continues above terraced fields, along the base of the cliff where prickly pears, aloe vera, legions of palm trees, and many plants I can’t identify grow like weeds on the incredible basalt columns.

The colors of this vegetation and the mineral environment create a truly unique harmony in the late-day light.

The trail then branches into what looks like a dried-up riverbed, which gives me a hunch—confirmed by Google Maps. While it had become clear we weren’t on the path to the jardins de los Reyes, we’re actually on the big hike through the Barranco de Arure, this steep river that we’re tackling in reverse since hikers usually start from the top! Now, I’d read that it’s quite difficult and not recommended with kids... and we’ve already covered more than half the walk. It seems pretty easy to us, but maybe that’s because this season, there’s no river or waterfall. No matter—nature here is stunning, and we keep going until the light starts to fade, then turn back.

The sunset blows us away, lighting up a pyramid-shaped peak above the higher village of Arure with a golden glow, apparently along the impressive ridge of Lomo del Carretón.

Later, we cross back through the quirky hippie enclave and reach the car after about an hour’s walk total—which isn’t bad for a 4-year-old.

That evening, we’re back on the terrace for a feast of tapas and a variation of my garbanza with white beans. One great thing about La Gomera is there aren’t any mosquitoes (at least not this season), so you can enjoy the outdoors freely or sleep without worrying about swatting your head or listening for sneaky buzzing. Night has fallen, and under a beautiful full moon, I gaze again from the balcony at the mountain that’s been calling to me since we arrived yesterday. At one point, I hear that noise again—the one I’d mistaken for fighting cats the night before—but this time, it’s not subtle: there are loads of them, and they’re definitely not cats. I’ve never heard anything like it—a sound like a goblin at peak hysteria after eating magic mushrooms, screaming insults in a high-pitched, sped-up voice that multiplies! I try to figure out what it could be and where it’s coming from. It’s so inhuman that I first think it’s coming from a window below, someone playing a fantasy video game or mixing electronic sounds. It sets all the goats and dogs in the valley bleating and barking in a thunderous chorus. Is this normal? Then it gradually stops. I go inside to tell Magali. She heard the cries too, finding them at least strange, though less impressive from indoors. We agree it might be birds, but they’d have to be some seriously weird birds! I type something like “scary bird calls La Gomera” into Google. A suspect emerges—I read a description, click on a photo, then a short video. Bingo: Calonectris diomedea. Behind this scientific name hides... the Cory’s shearwater. My god, what kind of bird makes a sound that awful!

Good night...
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Actually, it's not about budget issues but for other reasons.. Parking lots and museums are no problem. Nature that's more or less developed—parks with fences and entry tickets like in Tenerife or elsewhere—I say no.

I completely agree with your point of view, and that’s exactly why we gave up on the idea of spending a day in Tenerife while passing through.

I was just trying to give you a sense of the island’s vibe, far from commercialism. You’re doing the right thing by booking—you won’t regret it. But don’t spread the secret too much 😉
DJ Djalma Globetrotter ·
I completely agree with your point of view, and that’s exactly why we gave up on the idea of spending a day in Tenerife.

We’ll have to, though, because the EasyJet flight is supposed to land at 6:20 PM and the last ferry leaves at 8 PM. We’ll take the one the next morning. Accommodations near the port are super booked up at the end of September! :(
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XCOyB7WStI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2eI67iCbKY
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
I didn’t quite get why you didn’t go to Teide.

It’s free, and there are no barriers at all.

Only a few rare trails require prior authorization, and it’s still free except for two of them.

It’s not about being money-driven but about protecting nature.

This is becoming the norm pretty much everywhere in the world since hikers have multiplied.

Even in Auvergne, some trails are now very well-marked!

In France, just like in the Canary Islands, it’s the taxes paid by locals that fund most of the improvements for hikers.

In Madeira and the Faroe Islands, hikers pay almost everywhere for their leisure activities.

There’s hardly anyone on many of Teide’s trails—people all go to the same spot. The sunset on La Palma is incredible, and there’s barely a soul around.

It’s the place that amazed me the most out of all the Canary Islands.

Tenerife is like Puy de Dôme—there are places you shouldn’t go if you don’t like crowds and souvenir vendors, and others where it stays really peaceful.

If you want La Gomera to stay off the beaten path, we shouldn’t advertise it too much...😇

In my opinion, it’s a lost cause.
Édifices religieux : concours de photos amical d'août 2026 Rubrique Jeux Voyages C'est le moment de poster vos meilleurs clichés !
DJ Djalma Globetrotter ·
Not only is Teide paid entry now, but I’ve read that there are time slots with restrictions—something like that. You really have to want to go! I just read that it’s regulated and paid entry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XCOyB7WStI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2eI67iCbKY
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
I didn’t quite get why you didn’t go to Teide. It’s free and there are no barriers. Only a few rare trails require prior authorization, and it’s still free.

It seemed like Djalma’s take, and I think it’s very recent—but I might be wrong. The other reason is that we wanted to spend as much time as possible in La Gomera.

It’s not about being mercantile but about protecting nature.

Yeah, because of overtourism...

There’s hardly anyone on many of Teide’s trails—people all flock to the same spot. The sunset over La Palma is amazing and almost empty.

As usual, people all "flock" to the same spot. And I know that, like all tourist destinations, Tenerife has its preserved spots.

If you want La Gomera to stay under the radar, you shouldn’t advertise it...

My travel journal is even more under the radar than La Gomera and meant for just a few VF folks. The handful of people following it who’d go anyway aren’t exactly going to cause overtourism.

In my opinion, it’s a lost cause.

Not so sure—I’ll come back to that in the journal.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
I didn’t pay anything in March 2026, and the only barrier was the storm.

Both paid trails have been charging since January 2026.

Personally, I think it makes sense to pay. It’s the polluter-pays principle, in a way...

---

Overtourism is pretty much everywhere...

Even in the Faroe Islands, the soil needs protecting.

And yet, there’s only a handful of hikers. Fewer than on El Hierro, I think.

It’s a shame, but unless we eliminate 95% of the world’s population or drastically reduce people’s standard of living, I don’t see how things can improve.

I think you’re underestimating the power of travel journals. The number of people involved doesn’t matter. All it takes is one person reading your story and being inspired to plan their own trip for the snowball effect to begin.

That person could be a tourism professional looking for new ideas, an Instagrammer with a large following, etc.

Every place ruined by tourism was once a paradise. Just read Djalma’s youth memoirs.

Even Everest has become a nightmare...🤪 (Despite the expensive permit fee and the physical fitness barrier)

But hey, this whole discussion deserves its own thread.[;]
Édifices religieux : concours de photos amical d'août 2026 Rubrique Jeux Voyages C'est le moment de poster vos meilleurs clichés !
DJ Djalma Globetrotter ·
Even Everest has become a nightmare... (Despite the very costly access fee and the physical fitness barrier)

Yes, that's true, and it applies to all so-called mythical summits—Mont Blanc is one of them. And those who don’t climb the peaks still want to get close, so there are crowds within a 30 km radius. I can just imagine the summit of Teide in summer! Hardly anyone at Kangchenjunga (and within 30 km around it), even though it’s the third-highest peak on the planet. Not too many people in certain parts of Les Écrins either, which are just as beautiful as the Chamonix area for non-climbers. For the rest, I’ve noticed that anything more or less developed (roads, hotels, etc.) with paid sectors or parks attracts crowds. The Vercors, France’s largest natural space, is empty in its southern part (in the middle of August, I sometimes barely cross paths with anyone) because there are no developments, no villages or accommodations—except for rustic cabins that aren’t accessible by motorized vehicles. And nothing is paid for except the ski lifts in the 3 ski resorts of northern Vercors.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-XCOyB7WStI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2eI67iCbKY
MU Muriel18 Globetrotter ·
le calonectris diomedea.

Just out of curiosity, I went to listen. It’s definitely more than strange for a 🤪 bird!

Otherwise, I don’t remember paying to hike anywhere on Tenerife, and the only reservation I made was for access to the summit of Teide (and I totally get why access is regulated there). Has that changed recently?
Si tu diffères de moi, mon frère, loin de me léser, tu m'enrichis (Saint Exupéry)
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Jour 3, jeudi 30 juillet : Valley Gran Rey, Taguluche, Alojera, Valle Gran Rey

Ce matin, nous nous levons plus tôt car nous avons prévu la visite de deux villages côtiers : Taguluche et Alojera. S’ils ne sont qu’à une dizaine de kilomètres au nord de Valle Gran Rey, ils se trouvent dans la vallée voisine, celle de Vallehermoso. Et en langue guanche, « pas dans la même vallée » signifie « route tortueuse trois fois plus longue ». Les 10 kilomètres deviennent donc 30 kilomètres et une petite heure de route. Les aborigènes Guanches empruntaient des chemins plus courts en coupant à travers les montagnes par les sentiers qui existent encore aujourd’hui, mais ils étaient à pied…

À 9h30, nous sommes sur la route. La première partie de la route jusqu’à Arure qui trône tout en haut au-dessus de la Vallée du Grand Roi est ardu, encore plus en montant qu’en descendant et cela va devenir une habitude, nous commençons à avoir le tournis et la nausée, surtout les enfants. Heureusement, les bords de route gomériens sont constellés de départs de randonnée, et nous en répétons un, le sentier de Los Baranquillos ("petits ravins"). Il est très court et ne dure qu’une demi-heure, mais c’est juste pour nous dégourdir les jambes et dénouer les estomacs. Il reste assez près de la route mais traverse une petite zone de forêt si typique de La Gomera. Puis il conduit au mirador d’Alojera où nous attend une vue splendide et dégagée sur Taguluche, Alojera et l’immensité océanique.

C’est reparti sur la route, où nous croisons décidemment très peu de monde. Avant Alojera, il nous faut bifurquer sur une route plus petite qui serpente en descendant sec vers Taguluche. Théo a encore la nausée, alors nous faisons une nouvelle pause à un endroit magnifique, une crevasse dans un paysage de canyon et de sommets rouges qui plonge sur Taguluche et l’océan : le risco de Tejeleche. Nous reconnaissons le pic que nous avons la veille au coucher du soleil lors de notre randonnée dans le barranco de Arure… mais de l’autre côté. Et dire que nous avons mis une heure alors que nous habitons juste à quelques kilomètres derrière ! En tout cas, il y a tant de points de vue époustouflante qu'on pourrait s’arrêter toutes les 5 minutes. Ces petits arrêts nécessaires sont donc à chaque fois les bienvenus.

Cette fois, il ne nous reste que quelques centaines de mètres avant de terminer notre descente sur Taguluche. Ce n’est pas qu’il y a ait tant de choses à faire à cet endroit, mais il est présenté comme un beau village rural rempli de palmiers où l’on cultive le célèbre miel de palma de La Gomera. Il y a aussi des sentiers qui descendent vers des plages isolées. La route se divise en plusieurs chemin menant tous à des points différents du village. Nous en prenons une peu au hasard… qui s’arrête : il n’y a plus de route, c’est une impasse... Nous ne faisons toutefois pas demi-tour car il y a un sentier pédestre qui descend vers le village. Un groupe d’ouvriers gomeros est en train de repeindre la cabine électrique de la localité. Nous leur demandons l’autorisation de nous garer derrière leur camion. Ils nous font penser aux ouvriers que nous avions croisés en arrivant sur l’île, avec ce type physique un peu nord-africain, latino-américain et espagnol très commun ici, et souriants, ils dégagent quelque chose de particulièrement accueillant. Après nous être arrêtés au bout de quelques mètres à un figuier pour nous goinfrer de ses fruits bien mûrs, nous descendons un groupement de maisons et de petites fermes, croisons des poulaillers, entendons des chèvres, mais il n’y a pas un humain dans ce village qu’on croirait abandonné, en fait plutôt un hameau en pente bordant des culture en terrasses qui paraissent se jeter comme une coulée de lave dans l’océan.

Parfois, il y a des échelles appuyés aux troncs des palmiers, signe qu'il y doit bien y avoir des gens qui en extraient la sève. Nous pouvons aussi observer ces tuyaux de canalisation, omniprésents à La Gomera, qui permettent d'irriguer les terrasses depuis des bassins de stockages plus en amont, indispensables en été quand toutes les sources sont asséchées.

Nous arrivons à un point où plusieurs randonnées sont possibles autour du village. Mais au bord d’un virage sur la route plus haut, nous remarquons le seul bar-restaurant de Taguluche sobrement et pertinemment nommée Bar Restaurante Taguluche. Ce n’est pas l’heure du déjeuner, mais un café et des rafraîchissements ne seraient pas de refus car il commence à faire chaud. En dépit de son isolement, il a très bonne réputation et il n'y a jamais de menu fixe : on y mangerait (très bien) selon l’inspiration de la patronne et les additions seraient calculée à la (petite) louche. C’est d’ailleurs elle qui nous reçoit chaleureusement, premier signe de présence humaine dans Taguluche. Elle est désolée car il vient d'y avoir une panne électrique et elle a peu de choses à nous proposer. Et il n’y aura rien pour le déjeuner… La terrasse a une vue magnifique sur le village et l’océan, c'est le meilleur endroit possible pour profiter du paysage en sirotant. Nous payons l’addition modique et elle nous indique que le chemin goudronné qui descend par le côté du village vers la plage isolée de Guariñén. Nous le choisissons plutôt que celui de la cascade de Taguluche qui est tarie comme toutes les cascades de l’île en cette saison.
PA Pagaljavab Globetrotter ·
Une quarantaine de minutes de marche le long des champs en terrasses nous conduisent à une falaise au-dessus de l’extrémité du village et de la ligne de côte. Plus bas, le chemin mène à un environnement plus rocheux, très Far West. En bas, nous voyons des randonneurs sortir de la route et s’engager dans un ravin… Quand nous y arrivons, Magali est un peu dubitative que ce soit possible d’accéder à la plage sans être un alpiniste confirmé. Mais il y a bien un minuscule sentier un peu accidenté mais praticable qui zigzague entre les rochers. On voit de là la plage à la forme d’un petit golfe breton. Il nous faut une petite vingtaine de minutes entre les rochers et d’impressionnantes formation basaltiques pour atteindre cette belle petite plage sauvage de sable noir nichée entre les falaises. Il y a un couple qui se baigne, ce bout d’océan est calme et protégée des courants à cet endroit là, alors nous les imitons. En plus, l’eau est très bonne et on y admirer de loin une petite plage semblable, celle-ci est accessible uniquement par bateau, et un bout des vestiges du vieil embarcadère, comme il y en a dans toutes les municipalités du nord de La Gomera.

Nous avons profité trois-quarts d’heure de plage de bout du monde et il nous faut maintenant partir… Nous remontons le sentier plus vite que nous ne l’avions remonté à travers les coulées de lave figée constellées de cavités cryptiques, qui donnent toujours l'impression de vagues épaisses sur le point de nous engloutir.

Il fait une chaleur que nous n’avons pas connue jusque-là depuis notre arrivée. Nous avons marché plusieurs kilomètres pour venir, avons escaladé ce sentier bien raide, et l’idée d’avoir encore à marcher une bonne heure sous le cagnard pour regagner Taguluche nous paraît plus que difficile pour Théo. Le couple d’Espagnols a suivi nos pas et pas comme nous, se sont garé à l’entrée du sentier. Nous espérons secrètement qu’ils vont nous proposer de nous ramener, sans trop d'espoir… Nous continuons notre marche sans motivation aucune... et nos vœux se réalisent! La femme nous invite dans leur combi en nous disant que la route est longue et qu’il fait vraiment trop chaud pour le petit : 35°C. Nous n’osons y croire et nous les bénissons mille fois, leur souhaitons toute la chance de l'univers. Ils sont en fait de Tenerife, elle originaire d’El Hierro, et comme pas de gens de Tenerife, ils sont en vacances à La Gomera. Ils nous déposent au niveau du restaurant maintenant fermé. De là, il ne nous reste que 10 minutes de marche pour atteindre la voiture. Les ouvriers qui repeignent la cabine électrique sont toujours là, mais justement en train de ranger leurs outils. Ils nous saluent en signe de reconnaissance et nous donnent une bouteille d’eau fraîche "para los niños" qu’ils sortent de leur camion en faisant un geste de ne pas nous inquiéter : « Nosotros tenemos mucho ! ». Nous sommes tout émus d’avoir expérimenté la gentillesse et l’accueil canarien en un quart-d’heure.

Maintenant, direction Alojera à une dizaine de kilomètres de là… pour une petite demi-heure., où nous voulons visiter le centre d’interprétation du Miel de Palme. Mais d’abord, direction l’un des deux seuls restaurants d'Alojera car mine de rien, il va être 15 heures et nous n’avons pas encore mangé. Le restaurant Prisma se trouve au milieu de maisons juste au bord de la mer dans une ruelle un peu couverte où ses tables débordent largement. Il affiche quasi-complet et il ne reste qu’une table à l’intérieur. Les enfznts des locataires des maisons de vacances voisines, espagnols et français, font des allers-venues incessantes pour se ravitailler en glace. Nous commandons une paella de la mer pour deux, assez bonne mais que nous regrettons un peu quand nous voyons passer les incroyables platées de poisson grillé vers les autres tables ! Les tarifs sont nettement moins élevés qu’en France pour des plats aussi copieux. Nous sommes tellement calés que nous passons notre tour sur les alléchants desserts. Du restaurant, il n’y a que quelques marches à descendre pour aboutir à la plage de cailloux et à la belle jetée d’où les enfants se jettent dans l’océan sssscintillant.

C’est l’estomac lourd que nous nous rendons au centre d’interprétation du Miel de Palme, spécialité incontournable des Canaries, et surtout de La Gomera, seule île où elle est désormais produite. L’entrée est gratuite, et si la visite prend une quinzaine de minutes, nous apprenons beaucoup de choses sur son utilisation très ancienne chez les aborigènes Guanches, car le palmier est une espèce endémique de l’île. Malgré sa petite taille, La Gomera est l’île qui compte le plus de spécimens, soit 118.000. Les cultivateurs extraient minutieusement de la tête de l’arbre la sève liquide, le guarapo. Celui-ci est cuit jusqu’à ce qu’il se soit concentré : il faut 8 litres de sève pour produire un litre de sirop de palme, ici inexactement appelé miel. Il utilisé à la manière du sirop d’érable dans presque tous les desserts locaux. Les pousses du palmier sont traditionnellement utilisées comme de l’osier pour fabriquer des sacs. Le centre est fourni en explications, mini-documentaires et questionnaires pour les enfants, et bien sûr, il y a la boutique où l’on peut acheter du miel de palme local et des objets en palmier « à prix préférentiels ». Les mêmes marques s’avèrerons en fait être au même prix, voire légèrement moins cher, chez Spar. Belle petite visite très instructive en tout cas.

Voilà venue l’heure de rentrer après cette épuisante mais gratifiante journée. C’est reparti pour les routes en lacet et l’arrêt obligatoire, cette fois au mirador de la Curva del Queso qui s’élève à 600 mètres à pic au-dessus de Valle Gran Rey et à l’égard duquel l’expression « vue à couper le souffle » n’est pas galvaudée.

Ce soir, il va sans dire que c’est repas très léger. Quelques minutes après la nuit tombée, je me mets sur le transat du balcon et guette face à notre voisin de massif, dont je cherche le nom. Il se nomme Teguerguenche, s’élève à 1020 mètres d’altitude, et il possible d’atteindre son plateau par une randonnée difficile. Je ne suis pas surpris d’apprendre que c’était un haut-lieu de pratiques rituelles et de sacrifices pour les aborigènes Guanches : je l’aurais juré.

Les voilà… À 21h45 résonne le premier cri. Suivi par plusieurs autres juste au-dessus de moi, avant qu’un concert tonitruant de cris hallucinés ne fracasse la vallée plongée dans le noir, la lumière de la pleine lune masquée par le sommet siamois du Teguerguenche, l’Adivino (« le Devin », où la légende dit qu'un chamane guanche aurait eu une vision de l’arrivée des Espagnols bien avant la prise de l’île. Magali sort et n’en croit pas ses oreilles, Kelyandre n’est pas rassuré et Théo est littéralement effrayé. Ce sont des centaines de suppliques hallucinées, amplifiées par l’immense caisse de résonance de la vallée fermée par ses deux ailes montagneuses. Des sources sur internet décrivent que ce cri est peut-être plus strident du règne aviaire, le comparant à « des gémissements rauques », « des lamentations gutturales et lugubres » ressemblant à « des pleurs humains », au point qu’il a « alimenté des légendes de spectres ou de sirènes ». Je pourrais difficilement mieux décrire. Ce qui est encore plus impressionnant est que ces cris ne sont pas uniformes mais articulent des sortes de phrases distinctes, comme si elles exprimaient chacune un sens humain, mais d’une manière monstrueuse. Au milieu de ce chaos de cris suraigus semblables à des plaintes, des moqueries ou des apostrophes malveillantes de petits êtres démoniaques sous l’effet de quelque substance hallucinogène, se font parfois entendre des régurgitations atrocement graves, à la manière d’un chant diphonique mongol sordide : ce sont les femelles. Les enfants supplient qu'on ferme complètement leur baie vitrée malgré la chaleur. De notre côté, nous restons un moment sur le balcon, fascinés, car nous n’avons jamais rien entendu de tel. C’est une expérience irréelle, particulièrement dans cette nuit de pleine lune et cet environnement naturel et légendaire intimidant. Je me mets à m’imaginer la tête des navigateurs espagnols à l’écoute de cette cacophonie infernale depuis leurs caravelles : à leur place, j’aurais abandonné l’exploration de cette île maudite et mis les voiles le plus vite possible. Tout ça à cause d’un banal oiseau de mer au nom bouffonesque : le puffin cendré...

Similar discussions

You might also like